The Parson O' Dumford. Fenn George Manville

the case. An’ it’s a wonderful power is speech. Hey! that it is.”

      He looked out and listened for a few minutes, and then, all being apparently clear, he placed his knee on the window-sill, slid down the rope, gave it a jerk which set the hook free, caught it nimbly, and rolling the line up, went on preening and brushing himself still like a rat till he reached the Bull and Cucumber, where he was received by the party assembled with a good deal of pot-rattling on the table.

      It fell to him, as has been intimated, to make a speech or two that night, for the affairs of the day were largely discussed; and in the course of his delivery he named no names, he said, leastwise he did not say it weer, nor he didn’t say it weern’t Joe Banks, foreman at the foundry, but what he did say was that there was more unlikely things on the cards than for a certain person to jine their ranks, and become one of a brotherhood of which every man there was proud.

      “Well, I don’t know so much about that, Sim Slee,” said one of the men. “This here don’t seem like the societies that we hear on.”

      “What do you mean?” said Sim.

      “Mean! Why, as instead of our being joined sensible like to get what’s reasonable fro’ the master, we comes here to hear thee spout.”

      “That’s your ignorance, Peter Thorndike,” said Sim. “Yow’d like to be head man pr’haps, and tak’ the lead.”

      “Nay,” said the man, “I want to tak’ no leads, for I can’t talk like thee; but I want what’s sensible and raight for both sides, and I don’t see as we’re agoing to get it by calling ourselves brothers, and takking oaths, and listening to so much o’ thy blather.”

      “Peter Thorndike,” said Sim, folding his arms like an image of Napoleon at St. Helena, “thou’rt only a child yet, and hast much to learn. Don’t I tell thee as afore long Joe Banks ’ll be over on our side, and a great time coming for Dicky Glaire?”

      “Yes, you telled me,” growled the man, “but I don’t know as I believe it. I wants what’s fair, and that’s what we all wants, eh, lads?”

      “Yes, yes,” chorused the others. “Then you shall have it,” said Sim, raising one hand to speak.

      “I’ words,” said Thorndike, “and they don’t make owt to yeat. Sim Slee, your brotherhood’s all a sham.”

      Volume One – Chapter Eleven.

      Mrs Glaire’s Victory

      Tea had been waiting for some time at the house before Richard Glaire made his appearance – for he had of late insisted upon oversetting the old-fashioned homely customs of his boyhood, and dined late.

      The drawing-room looked pleasant, for it was well lighted; the tea-service was bright and handsome: and Eve’s hand was visible in many places about the room, where flowers were prettily arranged in vases; in the handsomely-worked cosy which covered the teapot; and in the various pieces of needlework that had grown from her leisure time.

      Mrs Glaire, still somewhat upset by the excitement of the day, was lying on a couch, with her face screened from the lamp, whose soft light fell upon Eve as she sat trying to read, but with her thoughts wandering far away. In fact, from time to time she glanced towards the window, and at every sound a bright look of pleasure took that of the anxiety depicted upon her sweet young face.

      Then the animation would die out, and she sat apparently listening.

      A sigh from the couch aroused her; and, crossing the room, she bent down to tenderly stroke the grey curls back from Mrs Glaire’s forehead before kissing her.

      “Poor aunty,” she cooed; “she does want her tea so badly. Let me give you one – just one little cup.”

      “No, Eve,” said Mrs Glaire; “I’ll wait till Richard comes.”

      “Where can he be?” said Eve, anxiously. “How late he is.” Then seeing how her words had impressed her aunt, she hastened to add: “Don’t fidget, aunt dear; he’s only stopping to have a cigar. He’ll soon be here.”

      “Eve, my child,” said Mrs Glaire, who had been brooding over a trouble other than that which had disturbed her during the day, “bring a stool and sit down by me.”

      Eve hastened to obey, and, drawing the young girl’s head down to her breast, Mrs Glaire went on:

      “My child, you must not think me strange; but I want to talk to you – about Richard.”

      “Yes, aunt,” said Eve, whose voice suddenly turned husky, as her heart began to accelerate its motion.

      “You love Dick, Eve?”

      “Oh, aunt dear, yes,” faltered the girl, with tears rising to her eyes.

      “Of course you do, child. No girl could help loving my son.”

      “Oh no, aunt.”

      “I always meant him to marry you here, my dear; for it would be best for both of you. You have always looked upon him as to be your husband.”

      “Yes, aunt dear, always.”

      “Yes, and it will be best for you both,” said Mrs Glaire, repeating herself, as if she found some difficulty in what she had to say.

      There was silence then for a few minutes, during which the tea-urn went on humming softly, and both women listened for the truant’s footsteps, but he did not come.

      “Richard is quite a man now,” said Mrs Glaire, after clearing her throat. “Yes, aunt dear, quite.”

      “Does he – does he ever talk much to you about – about love?”

      “Oh no, aunt dear,” said Eve, in a surprised tone. “But he is always very, very kind to me, and of course he does love me very much. He would never think of talking about it, aunt dear; he shows it.”

      “Yes, yes, of course,” said Mrs Glaire.

      “But – but – does he ever talk to you about – being married?”

      “Married, aunt? Oh no!”

      “He ought to,” said Mrs Glaire, with a sigh. “Eve, my child, I think it would be better for you both if you were married.”

      “Do you, aunt; why?” said Eve, naïvely.

      “It would be better for me too,” said Mrs Glaire, evading the question.

      “Would it, aunt?” said Eve, looking at her for a moment, and then hanging her head as if in deep thought.

      “Yes, my dear, I should feel happier – I should feel that Richard was settled. That he had a good, true, dutiful wife, who would watch over him and guide him when I am gone.”

      “Oh, aunty, aunty, aunty,” cried the girl, turning and twining her arms round her neck to kiss her tenderly, “you are low-spirited and upset with that terrible trouble to-day. You must not talk like that. Why, you look so young and bright and happy sometimes, that it’s nonsense for you to say dear Dick wants some one to look after him. Of course we shall be married some day – when Dick likes; but we never think of such a thing – at least, I’m sure I don’t.”

      There was a pleasant, rosy flush on the girl’s face as she spoke, and just then a cough in the hall made her jump up, exclaiming —

      “Here’s Dick!”

      Mr Richard Glaire swung the door open directly after, gave a scowl round the room, nodded shortly at his mother, threw himself into an easy-chair, picked up the book Eve had been reading, glanced at it, and with an impatient “pish!” jerked it to the other side of the room.

      Eve laughed, made a pretty little grimace at him, and, removing the cosy, hastened to pour out the tea, one cup of which she held ready, evidently expecting that Richard would come and take it to his mother. Then, seeing that he did not pay any heed to her look, she carried the cup herself, round by the back of the young man’s chair, giving his hair a playful twitch as she went by.

      “Don’t!”